


His Ugly Christmas Scarf

by SHINeegasm



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHINeegasm/pseuds/SHINeegasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft doesn't celebrate Christmas, Lestrade enjoys Holiday accessories. Fluff.<br/>My gift to the precious weholls for Tumblr's Sherlock Secret Santa. Her otp was Mystrade so I did my best to accommodate her feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Ugly Christmas Scarf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weholls](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=weholls).



Mycroft walked outside and immediately regretted it, he fiddled with the documents in his hands irritably counting that they were all accounted for so he wouldn’t have to make a second annoying trip.

The fact that it was his only day off in Months and he was regardless working wasn’t what was irking him, nor the persistent cold biting against his bare neck, not even the fact that he had to walk to his destination because all his drivers were off for holiday break, in all truth Mycroft Holmes just despised going out  _at all_  during the Christmas season.

He wouldn’t call himself a Grinch, and he didn’t avoid it like the plague as Sherlock did, but he really didn’t see a point in it. The people rushing by with stupid smiles plastered on their faces, the false sense of good will, please; the fact that people could only manage good will for one month of the year was pathetic.

He acknowledged Christmas as a Holiday, though he hardly celebrated it. He didn’t buy people presents, and he didn’t go out of his way to treat anyone any differently, extending kindness to someone for 30 days then just tossing it come January. The thought in itself was just foolish.

But it was Christmas after all, there was nothing he could do to stop it, he sighed tiredly and buttoned up his tan designer jacket then made his way down the steps and to the documents designated destination, hoping in the least he wouldn’t be confronted by an overly cheery coworker or bustling last minute shopper.

He noticed only a few minutes into his commute how cold it actually was, his neck was stiff with frost and his fingers were becoming hard to move as the cold numbed them, he mused turning back now would just be a waste of time, and he was only a good ten minutes away from reaching his goal so he begrudgingly decided to stick it out.

He pulled his jacket up in attempt to cover his ears and sighed dejectedly when the expensive fabric refused to cover more than it’s intended purpose, Christmas was probably spiting him for being such a scrooge.

And as if sensing his distress none other than Christmas personified, DI Lestrade turned the corner up ahead.

The Detective was smiling ear-to-ear and humming ‘It’s Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas,’ he was wearing his usual coat but his neck was marred with an ugly, cheap-looking red and green fuzzy scarf. The color had obviously faded from years of wear, and it looked itchy from too many trips to the dryer but the smile on the detective’s face did nothing to accommodate with Mycroft’s theory and he wore it like it was made from the softest silk.

Mycroft enjoyed the man as person but he could practically smell the eggnog from where he was standing so he bowed his head as he passed the the other, but as everything that day refused to go his way he should have known this wasn’t going to work in his favor and he heard the Detective Inspector call out to him cheerfully.

“Hey! If it isn’t that good-for-nothing’s brother!”

He slapped an arm on Mycroft’s shoulder and smiled, “what are you doing out so late? Last minute Christmas shopping?” He chuckled at the statement as if not believing it himself.

The well-dressed man forced a half smile and turned to the other, “not exactly,” he drawled motioning to the stack of important looking papers under his arm.

“Working on Christmas Eve?” Lestrade looked incredulous, even he had the day off, unless an unfortunate twist in the case he was working on came to light anyway.

“The world doesn’t pause for Christmas Greg,” he paused as a particularly cold bit of wind rushed between them, he involuntarily shivered and tried and failed pulling his collar upward against mother nature.

Lestrade’s features slouched, “well how much further on your destination then?” Concern clinging to the tip of his voice, “can’t be more than 10 minutes if I leave now,” the other made a slight bow and prepared to leave, “Detective Inspector.” 

“Well that’s far too long, you’ll catch a cold way before you reach the place!” He threw his hands up in the air trying to make an invisible point. 

Mycroft raised an eye-brow at him, he hardly thought his health was the least of this man’s business. “I’m curious as to why you care Greg,” he stated matter-of-factually and watched the other man’s demeanor carefully.

“Well of course I care you classy bastard,” he looked at Mycroft like he was stupid, “It’s Christmas!”

Said classy bastard returned the look of lacked brain capacity.

“So?”

Lestrade could clearly see how this man and Sherlock were related.

“Of peace on earth, good will to men?” He moved his hands from side to side looking a bit frustrated, “Just! Here!”

He unwrapped the itchy looking scarf from his neck and placed it around Mycroft’s shoulders before the other had enough time to get away. The business man scrunched his nose a bit in displeasure and made a move to remove it.”

“Oh come on, it’s not a designer thing but at least it’s better than catching a cold,” Mycroft had to give him that, and the thing despite being ugly was actually quite warm. 

He was about to give-in when he suddenly felt a warm grip on his hands, Lestrade was looking at them with a furred brow.

“What are you..?” The look on the silver-haired man’s face was humorous.

“Sorry! But..” His voice drifted along with his gaze to Mycroft’s frost-bitten fingers, pink and rough at the knuckles. 

“Yours are just the same,” Mycroft raised his voice before Lestrade could issue his concern. 

“But you are a far more important man then me,” the look on his face was so serious Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh at it. The deep chuckle rose from his now warm throat and permeated the air in soft puffs of cold escaping his lips.

Lestrade’s lips pulled upward and he began to laugh too, if it was the effect of the other man laughing, or maybe just good cheer, he didn’t know but he also couldn’t stop, nor could the other man.

And as they stood there, destinations forgotten, laughing at nothing in particular Mycroft couldn’t help but think, that maybe,  _just mayyybe_  it was thanks to Christmas.

__________________________________________________________________

I also made a little art to accompany this fic for Miss weholls ♥  
Merry Christmas Everyone!!

[ ](http://shineegasm.tumblr.com/post/38818402048/to-the-precious-weholls-i-was-your-sherlock)


End file.
